The Virtuous Lirael
by MissHaunted-MoonLight
Summary: A 'true' Daughter of the Clayr, she may not be, due to her lack of the 'Sight'. But 'virtuous', she most certainly is. Written for 'Seven Heavenly Virtues' on LJ, surrounding Lirael's character.
1. Confidence Issues : Humility

**Confidence Issues  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** Confidence Issues**  
****Fandom:** Abhorsen Trilogy  
**Characters: **Lirael, the Disreputable Dog, the Clayr  
**Prompt: **# 01 - Humility**  
****Word Count:** 995**  
****Rating:** G**  
****Summary:** Lirael had most definitely turned 'avoidance' into an art form. Introspective Drabble.**  
****Disclaimer:** All rights belong to Garth Nix and his publishers. I own nothing.  
**Author's Notes:** No 1 in my 7 Heavenly Virtues Series. My first 'Abhorsen Trilogy' FanFic.

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Lirael had most definitely turned 'avoidance' into an art form, of that she was certain.

Keeping herself to herself, hiding behind her head of dark hair as she mutely attended to the tasks she was set by the First and Second Assistant Librarians, it became ritual for her to work in silence, following orders and wordlessly dreaming of the day when the Voice of the Nine Day Watch would come for her, at last.

And yet even having work and responsibility to occupy herself with couldn't keep her from dwelling on her loneliness.

On those rare occasions when she willingly left the comfort and solitude of the Library, deciding that she couldn't go another day without eating at least _something_, that loneliness became even more overpowering.

She'd walk through the heated corridors of the Clayr's Glacier with her head down, dark eyes downcast and the faint Charter Mark on her forehead hidden by her sweepingly dark locks, all the better to avoid the looks she received from her blonde-haired, light-eyed, white-robed cousins.

It became customary for her to eat alone in the Lower Refectory, too. At least _there_, she wouldn't be easily noticed. She wouldn't stand out like a needle in a proverbial haystack, a fourteen-year-old Daughter of the Clayr without the Sight. In fact, it was rare that she was even noticed at all.

Fed, watered and depressed, she'd return to the Library, avoiding as many people as she could along the way and only relaxing when she was safely barricaded in her study until her next assignments were brought to her attention.

An endless cycle.

The truth was, even having a position of her own, even having work and responsibility, even having her own _study_ - despite its small size, it still being a space to call her own, - she still felt beneath her cousins. Almost _unworthy_, if her mood dropped beneath its usual desolate barriers.

And all simply because she didn't have the Sight.

That one, simple attribute resulted in her feeling like she didn't belong. Skilled though she may have been in fighting (though said fighting skills were probably dwindling due to her frequent refusal to attend her classes), in Charter magic, and indeed in her work as a Third Assistant Librarian, she was only recognised as being a Clayr without the Sight.

And at times like this, when even her responsibilities couldn't quench her desire to be accepted by her 'family', or have at least _one_ person to confide in, she felt particularly humbled.

Which is why Lirael kept herself to herself, working in resolute silence and making sure to stay as unnoticed as humanly possible as she went about her business, passing the days and silently wishing for her chance to be accepted as a true Daughter of the Clayr, praying for the day when she'd be Seen at long last.

_Surely_, her time would come soon?!

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Months later, and Lirael finally had somebody to confide in.

Granted, the Disreputable Dog wasn't exactly a _person_, and was instead bordering on eccentric bizarreness, but she was enough.

Just one friend amidst a sea of 'ignorers', and yet she was enough.

But even so, Lirael was insufferably reluctant to admit to herself that she'd done a remarkable thing in creating her.

Studying the Disreputable Dog in those hours when they sat together in her study, eating whatever she'd managed to pinch from the kitchens on her evening strolls around the Glacier, Lirael could always sense the Free Magic lurking just beneath the surface, eyes trailing over the collar about her neck and reinforcing her quelled fears.

And she'd think, contemplate, remember the day she'd poured Charter knew how many marks into a small, wire frame replica of the miniature dog statuette that had later become the very creature sitting before her. She'd been hoping, that day, not for a real-life, talking companion, but a dog-sending that would serve as company and nothing else. That was what she'd been aiming for.

And yet what she'd _created _was far from anything she could ever have hoped to have produced knowingly, remembering all too well just how many of those marks she hadn't known at the time, hadn't ever even _dreamed_ of using when she'd planned what she wanted to do.

Which is why she held no praise in her own abilities, choosing instead to _marvel_ at the fact that the Dog existed after the events that had taken place on that fateful day.

The Dog, of course, disagreed with her, though she'd never tell her Mistress that she was being far too modest for her own good. She knew all too well that Lirael was responsible for her existence, though the girl still seemed to have convinced herself otherwise.

And it pained her, though she'd never say it, that Lirael's life with the Clayr, growing up as she had around a family who barely had time to give her the time of day, was solely responsible for her lack of confidence.

And the Dog was more than prepared to dedicate her life to helping her Mistress see otherwise.

Something about the young girl spoke of immense power and strength, and there was a touch of destiny about her, something that, as of yet, the Dog couldn't quite read but was certain would come in to play in the not-so-distant future.

Which meant she had that long to help Lirael prepare herself. To help give the girl the confidence she needed to accept her path, to face the dangers that would lie ahead. For there would be _many_ dangers, of that she was sure.

And for the time being, - while the girl contented herself with exploration and expanding her knowledge of the world, of the Charter and the ways of life beyond the Glacier's icy walls, - standing at her side every step of the way, the Disreputable Dog would muse to herself that what Lirael didn't know wouldn't hurt her.

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**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	2. Kindness : Kindness

**Kindness  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** Kindness**  
****Fandom:** Abhorsen Trilogy  
**Characters: **Lirael, mentions of the Disreputable Dog & the Clayr  
**Prompt: **# 02 - Kindness**  
****Word Count:** 775**  
****Rating:** G**  
****Summary:** 'Kindness' is a funny word. They think I'm 'kind', you know. But I'm not so sure … Lirael's POV, .:One-Shot:. **  
****Disclaimer: **All rights belong to Garth Nix and his publishers. I own nothing.  
**Author's Notes:** No 2 in my 7 Heavenly Virtues Series.

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'Kindness' is a funny word.

It's one of those words that just rolls so beautifully off the tongue. And it writes well, too – if you're one of those people who has an elegant, sophisticated, and clearly legible hand, then the curled letters and dainty marks upon parchment are candy for the eyes.

But that's not why it's a funny word.

No, the reason I think it's funny is because it's so often misused. So many people catalogue things beneath it without fully understanding the true meaning of the word.

Take _me_, for example.

They think _I'm_ kind, you know.

But that isn't a word I'd generally use to describe myself.

No.

Timid? Yes. Quiet? Absolutely. Hard-working? Most definitely. Lonely? Completely. I couldn't be more lonely if I tried!

But _kind_?

I'm not so sure.

What they take to be kindness I see as being … well, _me_, I guess. I do as is asked of me. I complete tasks and accomplish goals just like everybody else who works here. I take my time with jobs, take the time to do them properly, take the time to make sure I've done said job to the best of my ability. I work in silence, keeping my head down and avoiding as many people as I possibly can simply because I can't handle the pitying looks they shoot me.

Because let's face it – standing out like the proverbial needle in a hay-stack is a sure-fire way to catch peoples' attention, and when dark hair and dark eyes are a complete contrast to the blonde hair and blue eyes of everybody else around, there's no need to guess who the proverbial needle _is_.

So keeping myself to myself is pretty much the only way of life I've ever known.

Which is exactly why I can't understand how everybody else has come to the conclusion that I'm a 'kind' person. I just do what I do because it's who I am. It's _all_ I am.

I work in silence to avoid others. I take my time with jobs simply because I don't want to end up having to do the same job a second time. I do what I'm told to do straight away because kicking up a fuss usually results in nothing but punishment or unwanted consequence, more often than not with _me_ on the receiving end.

To _me_, _those_ don't seem like the sorts of reasons a 'kind' person would give if asked why they acted in the way they did.

Although saying that, the Dog would probably disagree with me _completely_ on that one. She'd say those are perfectly legitimate reasons that merely congress to form a warm, adventurous, lovingly _kind_ young woman, who just happens to have the longest streak of bad luck ever known to have coalesced within one soul.

Charter bless her. She'll do _anything_ to lift my spirits.

And I'm truly grateful. Seriously, I couldn't ask for a better friend. She's _everything_ to me, these days, the only creature I can confide in with complete confidence no matter _what_ is on my mind. But she just won't accept the fact that I can't _not_ think badly about myself. It's just been such a long time. So many things have happened, and I just feel like I don't know myself, anymore. If, indeed, I ever _did _know myself in the first place.

Who knows? Maybe I did, once. Back when I had a family. I suppose back then I'd probably have said I was a kind person. I hate violence – always have, always will. And I've always tried to do what's best for others, tried to keep my mistakes to a minimum or tried to patch things up before they could wrongly affect my cousins.

But ever since … well, I don't know when, really. All I know is that after Mother left, my kindness became nothing short of a burden. An act. A constant performance.

And these days, I don't believe myself worthy of labelling my 'kind' acts in such a way, simply because they're more selfish than kind.

Yet even deep within myself there's that vain, desperate hope, clinging dearly to the light of life, that I can still change. That acts I perform in the future can at last warrant, in my own eyes, that very title. That for once in my life I'll be able to do something completely self_less_ rather than self_ish._

Only _then_ will I be able to accept what my cousins so often try to tell me, as though they know more about myself than I do; that I am, actually, beneath it all, a 'kind' person.

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**Thanksies for reading. Comments are more than welcome!**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	3. Temptation : Abstinence

**Temptation  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

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**Title:** Temptation**  
****Fandom:** Abhorsen Trilogy  
**Characters:**Lirael  
**Prompt:**# 03 - Abstinence  
**Wo****rd Count:** 650**  
****Rating:** G**  
****Summary:** She'd gone and done it again. She'd walked passed the door. And the temptation to enter was almost too much for her to bear. **  
****Disclaimer:** All rights belong to Garth Nix and his publishers. I own nothing.  
**Author's Notes:** No 3 in my 7 Heavenly Virtues Series.

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She'd gone and done it again.

She'd walked passed the door. The door that looked so inviting, so tempting, so … _exciting_.

There was something about it that she loved, something she just couldn't put her finger on. Her desire to peek beyond its rich oak front, her need to see passed the gleaming silver doorknob and the sparkling griffon-shaped knocker, her desperation to step over the threshold and expose its inner secrets to the world for the first time in eight centuries was so great that it was making her teeth itch.

Standing stock-still in front of it, her eyes locked unblinkingly onto a knot in the wood just above the knocker, she suppressed a shiver of excitement and tentatively reached a hand up to run her fingers smoothly down the panel. With a nervous glance in both directions, checking that the freezing stone corridor was, in fact, deserted, she took a step closer and let a tiny smile slide onto her lips as she pressed her hand against it.

The library was quieter than ever.

Another meeting involving the full Nine-Day Watch was underway, so nearly every Librarian had left to attend. Not remotely interested, Lirael had grabbed another stack of books and left the main entrance in a hurry, dashing through corridors and down spiral staircases towards where she'd thought was the correct section.

But unfortunately for her, she'd not been paying attention to where her feet were actually taking her, ending up instead in the corridor that appeared to have been calling out to her for weeks, now.

She always ended up being here by accident … but was it possible that_destiny_ had actually played a part in introducing her to the immaculate doorway to an unknown realm?

She knew not.

All she did know was that she was sick of walking away from it, when the door quite obviously wanted her to enter it. So today was going to be the day.

… …

Or not.

No sooner had she gripped the handle, steeling herself to push it downwards, than a memory of the Stilken in the 'Day and Night' room penetrated her thoughts, accompanied by the fear clawing at her racing heart as she recalled the impossibly sharp talons stretching out through the wrought iron gate towards her.

Pulling back as though burned, she breathed in sharply and bit her lip, heart thumping wildly as she stared half-wistfully, half-terrified at the gleaming silver knocker.

'_This isn't the same room,_' she tried to convince herself. '_It's a different door. It's a different chamber. It's a new adventure!_'

… …

But what if it wasn't?

Blinking and tearing her eyes away, she shook her head forcefully and bent down to collect the books she'd deposited to the floor upon realising where she was. Determinedly avoiding glancing at the door again, she set off back down the corridor, her footsteps echoing around her as she grit her teeth and tried to ignore the sense of complete disappointment that was welling in her chest.

But just before she could be sure that she was completely out of sight of the doorway, she turned back one last time, stopping in her tracks and staring at it intently, a sense of hope flying her way from its direction – almost as though it could sense her desire to uncover its contents. It _wanted_ her to enter … could she really ignore its cry? Could she really ignore her curiosity?

…

'_Yes,_' she told herself firmly, turning away and marching out of the corridor without a backwards glance. '_You must have a _tiny_amount of abstinence hidden somewhere deep down, Lirael. It's high time you learned to exercise it!_'

Letting the gateway to the stone corridor swing shut of its own accord behind her, Lirael never heard the little broken whimper of sadness emerge from beyond the strangely inviting oak door.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanksies for reading. Comments are more than welcome!**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	4. None the Wiser : Chastity

**None The Wiser  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** None The Wiser**  
****Fandom:** Abhorsen Trilogy  
**Characters: **Lirael, Sam  
**Prompt:** # 04 - Chastity  
**Wo****rd Count: **2'640**  
****Rating:** R**  
****Summary:** Things were so much simpler before she knew who he was. Lirael/Sam.**  
****Disclaimer:** All rights belong to Garth Nix and his publishers. I own nothing.  
**Author's Notes:** No 4 in my 7 Heavenly Virtues Series. Rated for scenes of sexual content. Implied incest, but only because the series says so …

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Her face was growing hot just thinking about him. Running a trembling hand through her hair, Lirael bit down hard on her lower lip and continued to stare unseeingly out of the Tower window.

He was on her mind, yet again. No matter what she was doing or who she was with, her thoughts continuously strayed to the wayward Prince, robbing her of her breath until her desire was almost too painful to bear. Keeping herself 'busy' was a pointless endeavour. And even her duties as Abhorsen were not nearly distracting enough.

Lord, how she missed the old days. Things were so much simpler, back then. Back when it was just the two of them and Mogget and Dog, back when they travelled and had adventures, back when they were young, carefree and … and _together_.

He was her first friend. Her first _real_ friend, at any rate. The Dog, bless her, was wonderful. Lirael loved her a great deal, and by all accounts she was the first friend Lirael had ever had … but … well, she wasn't human, so Lirael wasn't too sure whether she could really be counted as a proper friend or not.

But_Sam_ … he _was_ human. And he accepted her. Was amazed by her strength and apparent power. From the very first moment they'd laid eyes upon each other, Lirael had felt the sudden spark that flew between them. Her lack of knowledge at the time was now her biggest regret. If only she'd known, right back at the start, what it was that she was feeling for him. Maybe _then_ they could have had at least a _little_ bit more time together …

But now it was too late. Now, they both knew the truth. _Now_, she knew that she was his Aunt, and that any feelings she'd previously had for him were well and truly forbidden.

And that was the thing that hurt the most.

The knowledge that they could never be together.

And try as she might, she knew she would never be able to truly settle with anyone else.

Which is why she was sitting in silent darkness, staring out at the setting sun from her room in one of the highest towers of Belisaere Palace. Brooding on the things that could never be.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Sam suppressed a shudder with difficulty and straightened up, dropping his tools back down onto the work bench before clambering ungraciously to his feet. The candle was burning low and his workshop was beginning to be eaten by the growing shadows as the sun set outside. Walking slowly over to the window, he bit back a gasp of surprise as he spotted a lone figure leaning against the window-sill of Lirael's personal quarters.

Only one person would be in that room, and his heart began to pound erratically beneath his chest as he pictured her, every detail so sharp and clear within his mind despite his futile attempts to try and forget her.

Because they _couldn't_. They were _related_, now. And there was nothing either of them could do to change that, no matter how much they both wished for the impossible …

Chewing on his bottom lip as he struggled to keep his body under his control, he ran a trembling hand through his hair and mutely argued with himself over what his next move should be.

Hesitating for a few seconds that seemed to drag on for hours, he finally made up his mind and shot out the door without a backward glance, the candle blowing out in silence as it swung shut behind him.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The short, sharp knock on her door almost sent her jumping headfirst into the ceiling. Regaining her composure, albeit a little shakily, she hastily ran a hand over her face to dispel any tears that may have succeeded in their escape attempts and brushed a hand down her dress to smooth out the stray creases. Glancing up in mild curiosity, she willed her voice to sound stronger than she felt.

"Come in," she called out politely, eyes determinedly fixed on the turning door knob.

Only for her to inhale sharply, eyes widening in disbelief as the door was gently pushed open to reveal the one person she didn't think she could handle seeing, right at that particular moment in time.

Immediately turning away to stare resolutely out of the window, she willed her pulse to return to normal, an order that her body refused to obey as she heard the door click shut behind him.

'_Don't look at him,_' she thought firmly, clenching her hands in her lap as her muscles tensed painfully. '_Whatever you do, _don't_ look at him._'

It was all she could do to force herself to follow her own advice, refusing point blank to turn away from the window, even well after the orange glow of the setting sun had stained the distant horizon a silky, royal red.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

The silence between them was an uncomfortable one.

Sam could sense her unease as she purposefully avoided his gaze. He watched in silent amazement as the first tendrils of a fresh evening wind began to tease her rich, loose-hanging locks, exposing the pale skin of her neck whenever a particularly strong gust ran true through the wide-open window.

Licking his dry lips in unconscious anticipation, he closed his eyes in restraint and shook his head to try and clear his thoughts, suddenly all too unsure about what to do. His plan had been a simple one; knock on her door without running away before she could answer. Well, he'd done that, and here he was for his efforts – standing closer to her now than he had since their return to Belisaere all those months before.

But he hadn't planned just what he was going to do _after_ that.

And his body seemed to have acquired a fair few ideas of its own as he stood immobile just in front of the door, watching in entranced admiration as her slender fingers clenched and unclenched on top of the silken snow-white gown clinging delicately to her perfect figure.

In his mind, he knew he had to say something, but it seemed that her beauty had succeeded yet again in robbing him of his voice.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

Ignoring the chill of the evening air as it whipped at her face, Lirael shuffled restlessly on the window seat and tried to still her hands. Why had he not spoken, yet? Why was he watching her? Oh, she _knew_ he was watching her; she could feel his eyes burning through the back of her head and was more than a little irritated by his persistent stare.

Or was she?

A part of her relished the attention, if she was to be truly honest with herself. And she could feel her own body responding to the silent but apparent plea of his own – he wanted her, she knew that all too well. He wanted her as much as she wanted him …

Finally unable to take the prolonged and uncomfortable silence that was stretching out between them, she wrapped her arms around her shoulders in an unconscious attempt to protect herself from the cold and blinked, licking her lips.

"Did you want something, Sameth?" she asked softly but curtly, inwardly cringing at the use of his full name. By calling him that, she was reminding herself as well as him that she was his Aunt, that she had authority over him, that nothing more could happen between them …

Too bad it wasn't working to convince either of them.

"Yes," was all he said, before she finally turned around in time to see him approaching her, one foot resolutely pushing in front of the other as he crossed her room, fingers of his left hand absently trailing over her bed railing before falling to his side as they reached the end. His eyes locked with hers and she suppressed a silent shudder of delight, suddenly lost within their seemingly timeless depths.

Her head was telling her that nothing good could possibly come of this.

Her heart couldn't have cared less.

As he stopped so close to her that she could feel his breath ghosting across her cheek, as he reached a hand out to hers and gently tugged her to her feet, as he leaned in and whispered the one word that made her knees go weak, she cursed the day she'd learned of her relation to the one man whom she loved with all her heart.

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'_Did you want something, Sameth?_'

Oh, did he ever.

She was trying to remind him of the complications. A tiny, nagging part of his mind almost wanted to turn and run as she said it. But he stood his ground, refusing to buckle, now that he was so close.

This was it. He was finally going to say it.

"Yes," he replied quietly.

To Hell with the Charter, to Hell with rules and regulations, to Hell with the 'relation' complication. He simply didn't care, anymore.

He didn't know what was going to happen, what the consequences would be. He didn't know where their relationship would go from this point on, whether they would simply forget about this moment and let things return to normal, or whether things would change for the better. Or for the worse.

He didn't know what his parents would say if they ever got wind of what he was doing, nor did he know how Ellimere would respond to hearing about his outburst and to whom he'd revealed his innermost feelings.

But he _did_ know that he could no longer keep them to himself.

'_Did you want something, Sameth?_'

Steeling himself and making damn sure that he was staring her dead in the eye, gaze one of open sincerity and the utmost love, he inhaled a calming breath, squeezed her hand and, in a soft but determined voice, gently whispered, "you."

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

'_You._'

The word echoed around her head, leaving her breathless, confused and aching with a desire so strong that her teeth ached.

He wanted _her_.

Of course, she'd already known that, had known it for a while, in fact.

But hearing him say it, hearing him admit it straight to her face …

The world around them was suddenly insignificant. If only for a few moments, there was only the two of them, hands entwined and gazes locked, the breeze flying in through the window sending the skirt of her dress billowing around her ankles, teasingly licking at his heels as he closed the gap between them.

His face inclined painstakingly slowly, his lips parted and his face flushed with excitement. Lirael could feel something pressing into her midriff and immediately felt the excitement building in her lower abdomen - that aching need to touch him, to taste him returning with a vengeance.

Before either of them could think of anything else to say that might possibly spoil the moment, Lirael straightened up higher and closed the gap between them herself, pressing her lips tentatively onto his, testing the boundaries. When she felt him smile against her, she suppressed a tiny giggle and strengthened it, nibbling ever so gently on his lower lip, mutely asking for permission which he readily gave her.

Slipping her tongue into his mouth, she wrapped her arms around his neck as he wrapped his own around her waist, drawing her closer to him as he hungrily deepened the kiss, his member straining painfully hard against its confinements as he let his fingers slide up and down her spine. He felt her shiver in delight and couldn't contain a tiny groan of pleasure as she let her own fingers glide teasingly over the hairs at the back of his neck.

"Sam," he felt her whisper against his mouth as she slowly pulled away, her tones huskier than usual and her eyes alight with a desire that he knew was mirrored in his own. Gasping for breath, he relinquished his grip on her waist and let the palms of his hands rest against her hips, simply drinking in every tiny quirk that made her 'Lirael' ...

But then he noticed the internal struggle waging a silent war deep within her bottomless orbs, and he knew there and then that there would be no persuading her.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

"Sam, wait," she murmured, stilling her racing heart as common sense finally caught up with her. Biting her lip, she shook her head, crystalline tears welling in her eyes as she noticed the look of horrified resignation adorning his handsome features.

With a heavy sigh, he half-nodded and dropped his gaze, letting his hands fall to his sides.

"I know," he whispered back, voice hoarse and expression unreadable. "I know we can't."

She paused for a few seconds, just looking at him, drinking in for what could well have been the last time the person she knew she could have been eternally happy with. How she dearly wished she could give in to her desires, give herself up to him …

But she couldn't.

Her own chastity simply would not allow that.

And she found it even harder to say what they both knew she had to say, because he seemed to have accepted it without her speaking a word. Suppressing a sob with difficulty, she swallowed her self-hatred, swallowed her disgust that she was giving up a chance for happiness simply because of a familial technicality …

"I'm sorry, Sam," she tried, but he shook his head, lifting his index finger and gently resting it against her lips before she could say another word.

"I know," he repeated, feigning nonchalance, while they both knew he dearly wished for there to be another way.

She didn't know how to say what she needed to, and he didn't need to hear it, anyway.

Shaking her head again, she let her forehead fall against his chest, drawing him in for a bone-crushing hug, mentally wishing that the moment could last forever.

Too soon for either of their liking, she pulled back with noticeable reluctance and he let his arms drop to his sides once again, turning away to avoid her apologetic gaze.

"I'm sorry," they said in unison, looking up simultaneously and half-laughing at just how similar they really were … before realising that _that_ was making this even harder.

With a mutual but silent agreement, they pulled away, Lirael dropping heavily back down onto the window seat while Sam turned towards the door, once again.

Ignoring the icy sting of the now bitter evening wind, Lirael wiped hastily at her leaking eyes and returned to staring mock-raptly at the blackened horizon, unable to contain a wince as the door swung closed with a soft _click_ a few seconds later. Shaking her head and wrapping her arms protectively around her chest, she willed her heart to remain in one piece, as she silently wept for the future that she could never have.

Would that they were still living the lie of months gone by. Back when they knew nothing of their familial connection, back when their relationship had no boundaries, no barriers. Back when they were none the wiser about who the other actually was.

She watched with an aching heart as the light returned in Sam's workshop across the courtyard from her room, watched as his shadow momentarily blocked out the warm, friendly glow of the candles on his desk.

And while she silently yearned for his warm embrace, ached for him to hide her from the horrors of reality, the guilt buried deep within her chest was, if only for a few moments, briefly silenced.

They were doing the right thing.

But that didn't make her desire for the 'wrong' thing any easier to quench.

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Thanksies for reading. Comments are more than welcome!**

**Blessed Be!  
Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	5. Awakenings : Patience

**Awakenings  
by  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

**OoOoOoOoOoO**

**Title:** Awakenings**  
****Fandom:** Abhorsen Trilogy  
**Characters:** Lirael  
**Prompt:** # 05 - Patience  
**Wo****rd Count:** 710**  
****Rating:** G**  
****Summary: **On days like this, I wish for nothing more except the opportunity to weep for myself.**  
****Disclaimer: **All rights belong to Garth Nix and his publishers. I own nothing.  
**Author's Notes: **No 5 in my 7 Heavenly Virtues Series.

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On days like this, I wish for nothing more except the opportunity to weep for myself.

But it is unladylike to weep in front of people, or so Aunt Kirrith delights in reminding me. And I must do as she says, because I have so much to make up for.

Nobody understands though, and that's the hardest thing to live with. Nobody knows how difficult it is to sit through Awakening after Awakening - always in my blue tunic, sitting a head taller than the younger children around me who are yet to gain the Sight - while a Clayr who is practically half my age walks passed me in robes of crisp, pure white, minutes away from joining the others who sit at the 'Seer' tables… minutes away from celebrating the ceremony on a day that is dedicated to _them_… minutes away becoming a true Daughter of the Clayr…

I can't even _begin_ to describe just how much it hurts to be the outcast, the one who everyone looks and points at – the Sightless freak with the dark hair and dark eyes.

As I sit here, watching eight-year-old Amerelle glide by me, a bright, glowing smile on her face as she makes for the stage at the far end of the Hall, I have to forcibly will myself not to cry.

My eyes burn with the effort.

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The ceremony's over, thank goodness.

Without a backwards glance, I dash from the Hall, avoiding the many sidelong glances sent my way at my apparent haste to depart.

I don't even stop to wish Amerelle congratulations, which is most unlike me. Even despite my hatred of them all for getting the Sight before I could, I've still wished every single one of them well, to this day – I was brought up to be polite, and so was taught to cast aside my jealousy of their gift in favour of showing them kindness that, deep down, I did not feel.

Today, that lack of kindness got the better of me, and I didn't speak a word to the newest Daughter all morning. Not one word.

And, even more unlike me, I don't regret that one bit.

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I find myself sitting alone in my room, blue tunic thrown down unceremoniously onto the floor in front of my wardrobe…

Finally, the guilt's blossomed.

I take back what I said before; I _do_ regret it, now.

I realise with a start that I _should_ have said something to Amerelle.

My patience has got me through thousands of Awakenings in the past (well, it _feels_ like thousands, at any rate). I've _always_ tried to be polite to them, always congratulated them knowing that some day, if it ever _did_ become my turn, I would want every single one of _them_ to congratulate _me._

And now I've gone and blown it – my clean record is officially wrecked, and it seems patience is no longer a virtue I can honestly claim to possess.

Aunt Kirrith said it was unladylike to cry in front of people. So I didn't.

But I'm not in front of people, anymore – I'm by myself, all alone.

She never said anything about it being unladylike to cry when nobody else can see me. So I do.

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I've made my mind up.

I'm going to go and find Amerelle myself and congratulate her in private, away from prying eyes and reproachful looks.

She's only young, after all. I'm sure she'll understand. She'll know that I didn't _really_ mean to ignore her, and that I felt worthless, thanks to being the only Clayr my age still wearing Blue rather than White. I'm sure she'll understand that attending Awakenings always upsets me – she is one of the few people who talks to me these days, so she knows my fears well enough to understand _that_.

Yes, I'm going to apologise, then I'm going to congratulate her, and_ then_ my record of politeness won't be maimed anymore, and I can return to willing myself through the endless bombardment of Awakenings with sheer persistence.

I know that I must endure them, if I want my own Awakening to mean something.

All I need to do is be patient.

My day will come.

It _has_ to…

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**Thanksies for reading. ****Feedback is love!**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	6. Generous : Liberality

**Generous****  
by****  
****xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

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**Title:**Generous**  
Fandom: **Abhorsen Trilogy  
**Characters: **Lirael, the Disreputable Dog  
**Prompt: **# 06 - Liberality  
**Word Count:**990**  
Rating: **G**  
Summary: **"Sometimes you give _too_ much, Mistress." **  
Disclaimer: **All rights belong to Garth Nix and his publishers. I own nothing.  
**Author's Notes:**No 6 in my 7 Heavenly Virtues Series

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Lirael contemplated her empty plate in front of her and allowed a small, sad sigh to escape her lips.

Once again, she had stolen for one, and eaten none of it. As was nearly always the case, these days.

Her rationed mealtimes were being cut shorter and shorter, her appetite slowly disintegrating away into nothingness as the Disreputable Dog continued to grow. It was a peculiar thing: Dog didn't _need_ to eat, and yet Lirael was the one going without.

Not that she minded, of course.

No, she didn't mind at all. She was just happy that Dog was happy, even if that meant almost-certain death by malnutrition on her part …

"Mistress?"

Lirael blinked and looked up, eyes regaining their lost focus in time to see her companion lick her lips contentedly, but stare at the girl as though she had two heads.

"What is it?" she asked, frowning, eyes raking over the spotless plate, before she shuffled hurriedly to her feet and scooped it up, turning to place it on the desk behind her.

The Disreputable Dog - resting on her haunches as she licked absentmindedly at a claw on her left paw – considered Lirael thoughtfully. After a moment's silence, during which Lirael squirmed most uncomfortably, her eyes flickered over towards the plate.

"You did it again," she said simply, at last, shaking her head.

Lirael bristled and turned away, running a hand delicately down her tunic to dispel the dust that had gathered there after sitting on the floor; feigning complete ignorance as to what the Dog was referring to.

"I'm afraid I don't quite know what you are talking about, Dog," she replied airily, but the stiffness of her posture spoke otherwise.

The Dog snorted derisively and straightened up, stretching her limbs before padding good-naturedly over to her Mistress' side.

"Well let me refresh your memory, then," she replied, sitting down directly in Lirael's path, seemingly enlarging her body to ensure her concerned gaze filled all of the girl's sight. Lirael rolled her eyes, but said nothing. Hesitating for a second, Dog glanced at the plate once more, before continuing. "You returned from the kitchens with one plate of food. You managed to eat all of three mouthfuls of said food before saying I could have the rest. This seems rather a strange notion, to one who does not _really_ need to eat, yet as you are one's Mistress, one had to obey."

Lirael restrained a second eye-roll with difficulty.

"You know, that posh accent of yours is kind of irritating," she responded bluntly, an eyebrow raised. Dog growled, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Quit changing the subject," she replied firmly, tilting her head to one side so as better to consider Lirael's face. "Now, as I was saying … If adding today's repeat performance to the thirty-two other meals of similar order that preceded it, one can safely assume that liberality is a trait you possess in abundance."

Lirael blinked.

"Liber-what-now?" she asked innocently, trying and failing to catch Dog off guard.

It didn't work, of course. Dog simply nudged her firmly on the leg with her snout. "Call it generosity, then, if you will, but I'm simply trying to say that sometimes, you give _too_ much, Mistress. That food would have been of more help to you than it is to me, and yet you chose to give me more. Why is that?"

Lirael shrugged nonchalantly.

"Not hungry?" she replied bluntly. The Disreputable Dog shook her head, and though the presence of a snout made it very hard for Lirael to be sure, she had a strong inkling that the Dog would have been beaming at her, if she could.

"Not quite," Dog replied wryly. She paused, uncertain of what to say, then allowed her tail to sway slightly as a mute sign of her gratitude. "You have a good heart, Mistress Lirael. I feel generosity has long since been in your nature."

Lirael blushed and turned to busy herself with cleaning up.

"Yeah," she murmured with as little conviction as she could muster.

But as she reached out for the empty plate, she couldn't cover up a small smile of happiness. Nor could she disguise the low rumble from her lower midriff. Blushing scarlet, she cleared her throat quickly and turned towards the doorway. "Yeah, well, I suppose I can just grab something else for myself while I'm down there," she admitted finally, avoiding the Dog's knowing gaze. "Now, if you'll just wait here until I get back, I need to return the plate to the kitchens before they realise it's missing."

The Dog grinned at her, nodding as she stepped aside, leaving room for Lirael to pass by.

"Just as long as whatever you bring back with you doesn't find itself in my digestive system, too," she warned playfully.

Lirael shrugged, but shot the Dog a grateful smile nonetheless, turning away quickly as she felt the heat rising in her cheeks.

And without another word, nor a backwards glance – which would have shown to the Dog that her assumptions were one hundred per cent correct – she swept quickly and quietly from the room, letting the door swing softly shut behind her.

Silence fell in Lirael's study, and not for the first time, the Disreputable Dog found herself mulling over the retreating back of her Mistress with nothing short of amazement.

That girl truly was remarkable.

"I just hope her generosity doesn't kill her," she murmured to herself, shaking her head a fraction. As she settled down in front of the desk, absently licking at a matt of sticky fur on her paw, she closed her eyes and whispered to no-one in particular, "her survival of the tasks laid out before her may well depend on her sense of liberality. But dying because she saved me two too many Chinese ribs would be far too ironic an occurrence for even _me_ to contemplate."

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**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


	7. Second Assistant Librarian: Diligence

**Second-Assistant Librarian**  
**by**  
**xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**

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**Title:**Second-Assistant Librarian**  
****Fandom:**Abhorsen Trilogy  
**Characters: **Lirael  
**Prompt: **# 07 - Diligence  
**Wo****rd Count:**460**  
****Rating:**G**  
****Summary:**Lirael's total dedication to the Great Library results in an early birthday present.**  
****Disclaimer:**All rights belong to Garth Nix and his publishers. I own nothing.  
**Author's Notes:**No 7 in my 7 Heavenly Virtues Series.

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I don't remember _ever_ feeling as happy as I do, right now.

For the first time since I was granted the privilege of working in the Clayr's Great Library – back when the twins thought a job would be the best thing for me – I can honestly say my lack of 'Sight' isn't bothering me in the_ slightest_.

The yellow waistcoat of the Third-Assistant Librarians no longer clings to my chest, no longer symbolises a 'new-girl' who can be held responsible for little more than the occasional handful of Sendings.

No, I can't suppress a tiny giggle of delight as I shrug enthusiastically into the red waistcoat of the Second-Assistant Librarians, buttoning it up and admiring myself in the mirror standing proud before me.

This, too, procures a wide smile. The room reflected back to me is no longer the shabby, one-roomed study I had grown to call home during my time as a Third-Assistant Librarian. No, this one's bigger.

And better.

With its own small ensuite bathroom!

And all because I excelled at the task set out for me when I first donned the yellow jacket.

Ryelle and Sanar were right. A job was _just_ what I needed!

I've surpassed everybody's expectations because I've loved this job. And loved every minute of it – well, I say every minute, but the … _incident _… with the Stilken wasn't much fun, thinking back on it. But apart from that … yeah, I've loved working in the Great Library. Deputy Librarian Ness said she was impressed by the level of dedication I was showing to my work, which is why she suggested my name for promotion to Chief Librarian Vancelle.

And now look at me! A week before my birthday – the most hated time of the year, in my opinion – and I just can't stop smiling!

I guess it just goes to show you: those who maintain an air of diligence when they find something worth living for - something worth taking time and effort over - will always be rewarded.

Me, I would never have dreamed it possible.

But it has happened, nonetheless.

I may be 'Sight'less - and this time next week, I will be a nineteen year old 'Clayr' without the Sight which I'm sure will only serve to depress me most spectacularly.

But while I may not have the Sight, and while I may not be a true Daughter of the Clayr … _yet_… I _do_ have something that's going to make sure I stick this job out until the end:

I have the red waistcoat of the Second-Assistant Librarians.

The waistcoat that I've earned after years of hard work, perseverance, and the appropriate display of attention to a job I love.

And I couldn't be happier.

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**Much love to everyone who's read my stories! Any comments will be greatly appreciated!**

**Blessed Be!**

**Hugs,  
xXx MissHaun†ed-MoonLigh† xXx**


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